


He's in my territory

by wisia



Category: DCU
Genre: Brothers, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-23 06:33:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/619131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wisia/pseuds/wisia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jason finds Damian in his territory. [Written for the batfamily christmas exchange on LJ]</p>
            </blockquote>





	He's in my territory

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Airawyn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Airawyn/gifts).



> Thanks to stinajy and nekochan114 fro betaing.

            Of all the things that Jason could have pictured to entertain his night, he certainly didn’t imagine this. That one pissy Robin would drop into his turf just to be promptly tied up and trussed halfway like a pig. So much for whatever League-Assassin training (bullshit) the kid learned, Jason thought as he secured the binding and double-checked that they won’t come loose.

            “Todd! What is the meaning of this?” Damian was spitting mad. Jason only thought that it was a shame Damian’s face didn’t turn red as easily as Tim’s, but the situation more than made up for that.

            “Untie me now!” Damian demanded, and he glared at Jason the best he could. It  _was_  a rather fierce glare, almost border lining onto Superman’s red laser eyes. Luckily for Jason, even if Damian was a demon spawn in the replacement’s words, there was no way for a human to shoot literal daggers or turn a man to stone with his bare eyes. And it wasn’t like Al Ghul dumped the kid into his smoking pit or did something exceedingly freaky—or at least Jason hoped not. Those facts were enough to make for a probable safety he wouldn’t get horned with a demon tusk or something that Jason cashed in further for his night’s fun. He leaned down and pinched Damian’s cheeks hard—narrowly avoiding a chomp to his fingers.

            “Aw, aren’t you cute?” Jason cooed with an annoying grin on his face. He wriggled his fingers in front of Damian’s mouth, taunting the sharp teeth as they tried to take another stab at biting Jason’s fingers off. “Just like one of Ivy’s Venus fly trap.”

            “Free me this instant,” Damian hissed, not amused at all. “Or I’ll maim—“

            Jason wagged a finger—his fingers were still a respectable distance way from Damian’s ready teeth—patronizingly.

            “Then stay out of my hunting grounds, brat.”

            He leaned back slightly on the balls of his feet and took out a cigarette. As he lit it, Jason watched Damian struggle, trying to decide what to do with him. Technically, the brat wasn’t on Jason’s turf—it was one of those imaginary dividing line where whoever was closer dealt with it. But Damian wasn’t supposed to be patrolling. And that meant the kid was sneak patrolling.

            Damian growled and wriggled, trying to untie himself. He rotated his fingers, and he even attempted to dislocate the joint in his thumb, but Damian couldn’t free himself at all. In fact, it was downright hilarious the longer Jason watched. The kid managed to work himself enough to scoot across the concrete rooftop into an unintentional face plant.

            “You kill me,” Jason wheezed with laughter, and moved to rescued Damian from his death inducing position caused by lack of air with his free hand.

            “I guarantee it once I’m free,” Damian snapped back viciously as he twisted in Jason’s grip.

            “I’ll like to see you try. Now, why are you out here?”

            Damian’s mouth pursued into the straightest line it could possibly be.

            “Patrolling,” Damian answered so stiffly that Jason could have winced for the poor syllables.

            “Right, and I’m tap dancing across the roof for Santa.”

            Jason released his hold, and Damian fell again. Onto his side instead of his face this time.

            “T-Todd!” Damian spluttered. Jason clicked his tongue in warning.

            “Don’t lie, kid. It’s bad for you.” Jason flicked the stub of his cigarette over the roof.

            “And it’s unhealthy for you to smoke.”

            “Geez, when did you turn into Dick?” Jason asked, and watched as Damian stiffen some more.

            “I have not,” Damian said hotly. “Now, untie me you fiend.”

            “Only if you tell me why you’re here,” Jason countered.

            “I am patrolling,” Damian said, and Jason could have believed him if he didn’t already know the truth. Jason rolled his neck and shoulders before he sat down on the rooftop’s edge, crossing his legs.

            “The truth, kid. We can do this all night.”

            “ _I am patrolling_ ,” Damian insisted and Jason sighed. He reached for the communicator in his ear slowly.

            “I think I’ll give Dick a call. I haven’t talked to him in a long time.”

            Damian paled. “You will not!”

            “Dare to try me?” Jason’s finger moved onto the communicator’s button. Damian’s face twisted and he was so outraged he could barely form his words.

            “You—I am. I have—I have been temporarily relieved of my duties as Robin.”

            Jason dropped his finger. “See, was it so hard to admit that you’re grounded?”

            “Todd,” and Damian’s voice was still sharp even as his face morphed into a miserable drowned cat look. “If you speak about this to Grayson or anyone, I will—“

            Jason cut him off in another round of laughter. That made Damian blinked in surprise.

            “I’m not going to do that,” Jason explained when he stopped laughing. Jason had decided what to do with the kid. He took out a knife and, with one easy move, he slit the binding.

            “Go,” Jason said. “Have at it for another hour, but go straight home after you’re done.”

            He gestured to the whole of Gotham and chuckled some more. Damian stared at him before his eyes narrowed in distrust.

            “Why? Is this some ploy to—“

            Jason shrugged. “This is hilarious. And I’m going to laugh some more once they find out you’re gone.”

            Damian quickly picked himself up, hand rubbing circulation back into his wrists.

            “They will not find out,” Damian muttered quietly. Then to Jason—“Don’t think I’ll thank you for this.”

            “Don’t want your shitty thanks anyway,” Jason called to Damian’s back as the brat swung away. He stretched his arms up languidly as a soft voice drifted into his ear.

            “You know I heard everything, right? You didn’t turn off your communicator.”

            “Did you, now?” Jason replied as he continued to stare in the direction that Damian left. Dick laughed lightly.

            “You should have brought him back to the manor.”

            “If you want him, get him yourself. I’m not your pet dog. Kid needed to blow off some steam anyway.”

            “He probably does,” Dick replied. He paused slightly before continuing. “You make a good brother, Jay.”

            “By letting him off?” Jason snorted. “Nah, I just want to piss off B. I’m expecting those pics by the way—close ups on his face.”

            “Uh huh,” Dick said, not buying into Jason’s rough words. “That’s why you followed him for two hours before tying him up.”

            “He was in my territory, Dickhead.”

            “I’ll let you know when he gets home.”


End file.
